All the magic you need
by Bond.Jane
Summary: Short tag for The Witch In the Wardrobe. Booth and Brennan and magic. "He had a pocket full of sticks to go with a heart full of wishes."


**Author's note: Didn't I tell you that being in love with this show is like being in an abusive relationship? The Witch In The Wardrobe was the lovely bouquet of flowers the abusive partner brings home. I mean, Hodgins and Angela are back, baby! And no mentions of Catherine or Hacker... Now, was it just me or Booth's definition of happiness is pointing to the last episode? (Two little episodes away..... Be still my beating heart)**

**So I just had to write this one, simple though it is.  
**

**Anyway, Thank You, as ever, to the lovely MickeyBoggs for the help with this chapter.**

**Enjoy**

**Jane  
**

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He smiled like the dolt that he was when it came to her.

"Look, it's you, little Bones!"

Of course she didn't believe. She _wouldn't_ believe. But she smiled too and as far as he was concerned, that was worth hours of listening to Wiccans going on about their Goddess while they rolled and folded and tied and gave him the little effigies.

"They said that if I burned this in your presence, the wish I make for you will come true."

Yeah, she didn't believe, she had no faith. But damn it, he had it in spades for both of them. Enough to hold on to little stick Bones and let it burn into his fingernail because he was holding on and wishing upon a stick of paper.

He closed his eyes and made a wish.

It was a wish for her. That she was happy.

Was it wrong of him to wish as well that he could be the one to make it true for her?

He had more little stick Boneses in his pocket. A whole army of them. _Not nearly enough of those, man! _his wounded pride muttered bitterly in the background. _You're clutching at straws. Pathetic!_ Like plucking daisies. Bones would say he was ridiculous. _Which is true! _But he wanted to take the whole army of little stick Boneses and burn them at that table looking into her eyes and wish that she would wave her magic wand and make him a real boy. _P.A.T.H.E.T.I.C. _If it had happened for Pinocchio, why not for him?

He set the flame to the paper and let it burn.

"Do you wanna know what I wished for?" _Please say yes. _To which his inner alpha male, wounded pride snorted _Wuss_. Which his heart obviously ignored.

"No. It doesn't matter. Completely irrelevant"

"I wished..." For a snipper's fraction of a second hesitation, he almost spilled. "I wished you could find happiness." _There! That's as far as you gonna get. Wuss, I repeat. Wuss! _His heart stayed strong, ignoring the little bitter voice.

"I don't know what that means" And _that _broke his heart all over again. _And I bet you can't wait to show her! Give it up! It's getting old!_

"Happiness... love, laughter, friendship, purpose and a dance."

_Moron!_

He took one more little stick Bones out of his pocket, closed his eyes and lit it.

He had a pocket full of sticks to go with a heart full of wishes.

...........

She didn't believe in the outcome. She only believed in things she could experience for herself. Happiness? That was an alien concept. At least the way Booth described it, the way he believed it. Happiness for her was sitting right there in that restaurant at the end of the night and have him there. No matter that she would go home alone and sleep alone. What mattered was that he was standing by her for the largest part of the day. That he still lit little bits of twisted paper to wish her well. Even when she had crushed his heart. What mattered was that he still looked her in the eyes and taught her things and changed the way she saw the world.

That was two and a half out of five... She had love- sort of, the best her heart could do, anyway, but most of all, she had the friendship and occasionally, even a dance. Which was far more than what she'd had known before him. That would have to be sufficient.

You can't always find happiness. Some people are not meant for that.

She wasn't. Booth was. She did not need any stick little Booths to wish him well. That was the only thing in her own crushed little heart. She wished he could be happy. And even if she didn't know what it felt like, she knew he did. And that she was not the key to his happy ever after.

Magic? That was a lovely thought. It really was.

But as they ate and talked and laughed and he burnt stick after stick just to make her laugh with the most ridiculous wishes _I wished that you'd start liking apple pie _or_ wished that you'd admit that corpses stink _she held his warm hand and squeezed it tightly in hers. They held each other's silent gaze for a minute until she just had to close her eyes and make a wish all of her own.

_I wish I was good enough._

And as far as she was concerned, the unwavering strength of his hand on hers, that warm powerful touch of his was all the magic she needed. All the magic she believed.


End file.
